


This Isn't a Bordello, Klaus!

by Mi_Impossible



Series: Klaus Hargreeves, fashion disaster and icon [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drug Use, Gen, Humor, Panties, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Sibling Rivalry, This is Klaus we're talking about do I even have to tag that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-12 08:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18007586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mi_Impossible/pseuds/Mi_Impossible
Summary: Klaus didn't get why everyone was so picky about what he wore. He might have sometimes chosen his clothes just because he thought they were terrible and loved it, but nothing was worse than the uniform, okay? This was his house, and he would wear what he wanted in it, damnit.





	This Isn't a Bordello, Klaus!

**Author's Note:**

> This idea entered my head and I had no idea where I was going with it, but here we are several days later. Enjoy.

Vanya was in her room, calmly practicing violin, when someone did a funky knock on her door.

"Yeah?"

"Sounding real good, Vanya!" Klaus shouted through the door. "Can I ask you a favour?"

Vanya rolled her eyes and sighed. Of course Klaus was only giving her a compliment because he wanted a favour. Of _course_. He probably wanted her to hide drugs for him again. Her closet had smelled like skunk for ages after last time, and had only stopped when she complained to Klaus and he leant her a scented candle.

(The scent had been called  _Witch Boy_. Klaus told Vanya that it got him in the mood. She really didn't want to know if he meant for a séance, drugs, or... Well, something else that she never,  _ever_  wanted to know _anything_ about her brother's involvement in.)

Vanya put her violin down on her bed, mostly because she knew it drove Hargreeves crazy when she didn't put it back in its case, and went to open the door. "What," she sighed as she opened it, and was greeted with the sight of Klaus wearing nothing but hot pink underwear. With lace. And a little black bow at the front.

Vanya blinked.

Klaus giggled. "So, I was wondering if you had-"

"What the _Hell_ , Klaus."

Klaus looked at Vanya quizically. He soldiered on. "You got a hairbrush? Diego threw mine at Luther when they were fighting in the bathroom yesterday, it broke. Or maybe flew out the window?"

"Weren't you there?"

"Yes! I was cheering for Diego," Klaus mumbled. "But that doesn't mean I know what happened!" He looked at Vanya like having complete blackouts of memory was something that should be happening to everyone. "The point is that I don't have a hairbrush."

"So you want me to lend you mine?" Vanya asked, studiously not looking down at her brother's highlighter-coloured apparel.

"Ja!"

Vanya rolled her eyes. "No."

"Pourquoi pas?" Klaus whined, sticking out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout.

"I don't want your pube-like hair stuck in my brush forever, thanks."

"Hey! That was uncalled for," Klaus shouted, looking halfway between amused and legitimately insulted.

"I only ever leant you my hairbrush once. I learned my lesson that one time."

Klaus leaned in very close so that his face was only inches away from Vanya's. His pupils were blown wide, shrinking and expanding fractionally as though in time with his heartbeat. It was glaring this close up. "Bold of you to assume those weren't actually pubes," he whispered, as though he was letting Vanya in on a great secret. Then he grinned.

"Klaus, what the _fuck_ ," Vanya hissed, pushing Klaus away from her. He stumbled until he hit the wall across from the door of her bedroom. "What the fuck."

Klaus frowned. "So it's really a no on the hairbrush, then?"

"No!" Vanya shouted. At Klaus' hopeful look she shook her head and said, "I mean, yes!"

Klaus made a hissing noise and walked away. "Danke pour nada," he threw back over his shoulder.

"That was three different languages," Vanya shouted back.

Klaus raised both of his hands. Without stopping or turning around he gave Vanya a thumbs up with one hand and the middle finger with the other.

* * *

"Heyyyyyy!" Klaus singsonged, trying to flop onto the couch next to Diego, but crashing to the floor instead. He nuzzled his face into the hardwood as though it was the softest bed in the world and sighed. "How ya doin'."

Diego rolled his eyes and turned to look at Klaus, mouth open on the beginning of a sentence that rhymed with duck cough. The words died on his tongue when he saw Klaus. "Uh, K-Klaus?"

Klaus hummed cheerfully.

"W-where are your clothes?"

"My clo-  _oh_! Clothes! Um," Klaus trailed off, voice muffled against the floor, "y'know the walls in the bathroom are vibrating?"

" _What_?"

"Or they were. Kinda, zooming in and out. Real fast. It was pretty cool. I was trying to take a piss but I got distracted," Klaus wiggled on the floor and giggled. "The floor of the bathroom smells bad. Not like piss though, more like-"

"Klaus! Clothes."

"Oh  _yeah_!" Klaus fell silent. Then he mumbled, "time vortex."

"Klaus."

"The bathroom's kinda small with the door closed. I felt like the room was getting bigger though. It's like a, a, a time vortex."

Diego couldn't be sure, but he thought Klaus looked like he was crying.

"The tiles on the floor do weird things, and the walls vibrate, and the door moves, side to side," Klaus mumbled, seemingly more to himself than to Diego.

"Klaus?" Diego nudged Klaus with his foot.

Klaus cackled. "I was uh, wearing suspenders, right? And I couldn't get them back up."

"Why the Hell would you wear suspenders?"

"For _fashion_ ," Klaus proclaimed haughtily. He gave a long sniff. "I think I  _could_ have. Pulled my suspenders back up. Just didn't seem important. An' my pants were  _way_ too small. I was on the floor and they kept  _ripping_. They're garbagio," Klaus waved his hand at Diego as though dismissing him. "Pogo's taking me shopping Sunday... I sometimes think I want leather pants. Think he'll buy me those?"

"No." Diego looked at him warily. "And... Your shirt?"

"I don't like shirts," Klaus whined. "No one does. Everyone wants to see these titties," he proclaimed, rolling over and groping at his chest. He looked like he had just had an epiphany. "I don't _have_ titties!" He then started laughing hysterically.

"Oh  _god_ ," Allison said, standing in the doorway and looking at Klaus like he was something she just scraped off the bottom of her shoe. "What is he on?"

"Mario," Klaus mumbled.

Diego snapped his fingers. "Magic mushrooms."

" _Shroooooooooms!_ " Klaus warbled. After a few seconds of disgusted scoffing from Allison, he whispered, "why is this even a thing?"

"Whatare you  _talking_ about?" Allison asked, eyes boggling out of her head as she walked up to Klaus.

Klaus snickered. "Imagine being, like, a monkey. And you just eat some mushrooms from the forest floor, and  _this_ happens.  _This_ is a  _thing_."

"You're being really loud," Diego scolded.

"Shut up! Just shut up. Neither of you are real."

 "Klaus! You need to put clothes on and sober the fuck up," Allison said.

"This is my home and I'll wear what I want! And lemon tek what I want," Klaus said petulantly, pulling himself into a sitting position using the arm of an antique chair. He snickered. " _Tek_." He stuck his tongue out then dragged one hand down his face. "Someone should prob'ly wash the blender.  _Mommmmmmmm!_ "

"Klaus, shut up!" Diego hissed, but it was too late.

Grace Hargreeves walked elegantly into the room, her sensible black patent pumps clicking against the floorboards. When she saw Klaus gripping the armrest of her favourite bergère wearing nothing but a pair of hot pink panties, she stopped in her tracks, cocked her head to the side, and blinked at him.

"Hey mom,"Klaus slurred.

Diego cradled his head in his hands, sighing deeply.

Allison rolled her eyes and walked towards the door.

"Allis-Al- uhh, Allie! Wait," Klaus held out one arm to Allison. "D'you have a hairbrush. I can borrow."

"Klaus, sober up. Then we'll talk." Allison left.

"Sweetie, I can get you a hairbrush!" Grace said, walking over to Klaus and lifting him up gently. "What happened to your old one?"

"Diego threw it at Luther."

"Diego, you should be more careful with your siblings' things. I'll have to remind Luther of that, too," Grace said, eyes unfocused as she processed  having to remind Luther later. When she was done, she focused on Klaus. "Klaus, sweetie, are those women's underwear?"

"Mais oui!" Klaus announced happily. "Gender is dead!"

"As long as it makes you happy, it makes me happy," Grace said, nodding idly and giving Klaus an empty smile.

"There's a blender in the kitchen. Gotta be washed. Shroom dust everywhere," Klaus stated gravely, looking Grace dead in the eye. "Can you clean it for me? Bitte? With a cherry on top?"

"Of course, pumpkin," Grace agreed, smiling. She kissed Klaus' forehead. "My spooky boy. Put some clothes on, alright? I don't want you to get sick."

* * *

Allison had explicitly told Luther that he should avoid the living room. When asked to elaborate, she had dodged his questions, so naturally he had to look in the living room. He was the leader of the team, after all, and if there was a problem, it was his duty to solve it.

When Luther walked into the living room he only had himself to blame, and promptly realised the only things that needed fixing were his now extremely damaged eyes and memory. He mentally mapped the fastest route to the bleach Grace kept under the kitchen sink.

"Klaus, what the Hell are you wearing?"

Klaus looked up from his position on the couch. He was lying on his stomach, and seemed to be trying to light the cigarette dangling from his lips with a lighter that was nowhere near said cigarette. Every time he flicked the lighter he brought it closer to his left eyeball. "Buongiorno, Luther! How you?"

"This isn't a bordello, Klaus! Put some clothes on, for God's sake!" Luther exclaimed, covering his eyes with one hand.

"But it could be," Klaus giggled. His face turned serious. "I don't get why everyone is so picky about what I wear."

"Because you dress like you think you think you're Siouxsie Sioux."

Klaus looked at Luther with his mouth gaping open. The cigarette stayed stuck to his bottom lip. "You know who Siouxsie Sioux is?" He asked incredulously.

"With the amount you play Cities in Dust? I can't _avoid_ knowing."

"Stop bitching," Klaus groaned. "Your music taste is shit, and I dress nothing like Siouxsie Sioux."

"Well, you dress like you've fought all of the black clothes in the women's section of a thrift store and lost," Luther said vindictively.

Klaus cackled. "That leather vest I bought the day the Eiffel Tower went berserk is _terrible_." He went back to flicking his lighter.

"Klaus, take that thing off." Luther waved at the bottom half of Klaus' body, carefully averting his eyes.

"If you insist," Klaus purred, grabbing for the waistband of his underwear with the hand not flicking his lighter.

"No! No, no, no, no, no!" Luther shrieked.

"I might sometimes choose my clothes 'cause I think they're terrible and I love it, but nothing is worse than uniform, okay?" Klaus said, glaring at Luther's clothes.

Luther looked legitimately hurt. It was very sweet, if one were to ask Klaus. "Our uniform is respectable and well designed. It might not exactly be _fashionable_ , but it looks better than the girly trash you-"

Klaus lunged. He spat out his cigarette, threw his lighter to the side haphazardly, and full on tackled Luther with a battle cry unlike anything ever before heard in human history. He probably would not have done it if he hadn't been tripping, considering the fact that Luther was about six inches taller than him and had super strength.

Luther screamed and kept his eyes screwed shut, arms stuck to his sides. He tried to wriggle away from Klaus without touching any of his bare skin, which was difficult considering Klaus was wearing only the panties and clinging to Luther like a koala with separation anxiety.

"This is my house, and I'll wear what I want in it, damnit!" Klaus wailed, squeezing Luther as hard as he could, his skinny limbs crushing like a boa constrictor. Though he seemed angry he was also laughing, and every time he swatted at Luther he missed by a mile. "I am Klaus Hargreeves, fashion disaster _and_ icon, and I will not be fucked with!"

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, kudos and comments always appreciated.


End file.
